definition
by dusk's falling star
Summary: thiefshipping. / / gray-aromantic \ , noun; 1: a person or being who very rarely feels romantic attraction to anyone.


_gray-aromantic \ , noun;_

_1: a person or being who very rarely feels romantic attraction to anyone._

Bakura's eyes scanned over the pages of the book he was reading, a rather concentrated expression on the male's face, only stopping to occasionally push up the black-rimmed glasses that he wore strictly for reading.

Such concentration and dedication was almost unheard of in things concerning the thief - but what he concentrated on, he did it well. So well, in fact, he failed to hear the tell-tale footsteps of the only other person in the household entering the room.

Marik easily threaded his way behind the chair Bakura was residing in, and hesitated for a moment, watching the other read with a slight fascination. It seemed such a shame to interrupt the older male when he seemed so…involved, in whatever it was he was reading. However, that didn't stop him, and after a minute Marik lightly tapped on Bakura's shoulder.

"Hey, Bakura! I have a question for you!" Marik's tone was a strange mix of cheerful and mischievous, and Bakura made no effort to hide his sigh as he glanced behind him at the Egyptian. He turned his attention back to his book, and Marik was about to interrupt again when the white haired male spoke.

"What is it, Marik? It better be important…" Bakura grumbled, making no effort to pay his full attention to the other male. By now, living with Marik had taught Bakura two things - one, Marik's questions were usually not worth the time, and two, they always had some sort of purpose. However stupid, in Bakura's eyes, it may be.

"…I was reading something, today. It was about some people not being able to feel love. And, well…it got me curious. Bakura, can you feel love?"

The question came out of the farthest left field the spirit could've expected, and he put the book down for a minute, glancing behind him again. Marik's eyes held a bit of childish curiosity, but the white haired man knew much, much better. There was nothing childish about Marik at all - this question had some sort of a purpose. What that purpose was, however, both concerned him and made him curious.

"What kind of a question is that?" Bakura remarked, flipping the pages in his book as if he really couldn't care. "Seems a little strange for you to be asking me that."

"Well, you haven't answered! Can you, or can't you?" He seemed awfully defensive, and it definitely dodged around Bakura's question - but, he supposed, it didn't matter. So, he'd indulge in Marik's strange question. "Grey aromantic, as I've heard it called over the years. Why does it matter?"

"…Grey _what_?" Marik's tone was definitely confused, and Bakura couldn't help but set down his book, laughing while doing so. "Marik, please! You came all the way asking me about that and you don't even know what it's properly called?"

"Well, _excuuuse_ me for not knowing your fancy-ass terms! Is that a yes, or a no?!" Marik replied defensively, glaring at Bakura - though he doubted the spirit could see him properly, anyways. Bakura waited until his laughter turned into a low chuckle to answer.

"Let me read you the definition, shall I? Grey aromantic; noun. A person who very rarely feels romantic attraction to anyone. So, in simpler terms…sometimes I do, but most of the time I don't." He shrugged, turning around in his chair to give a smug smirk at the Egyptian. "Any _other_ questions that could be solved by looking in the dictionary, _Ishtar_?"

There was a pause, and Bakura took that to be a 'no'. So, he turned back around in the chair, and went back to reading. After a minute, however, Marik finally spoke.

"…How do you know you're not totally aromantic, or whatever, then? Have you ever liked someone?"

Bakura found himself gripping his book a little tighter, immediately hating the direction this topic was going. This was one question Marik wouldn't get the answer to. "Why does it matter if I have or haven't, Marik? I answered your question. Now,_shoo_. I'm busy."

"Oh, whatever. I just…wanted to know, because I was reading about it, and I dunno what I am." Well, that caught Bakura's interest - but in more of a bitter way then anything. After all, if he was thinking like that, then it was probable that he'd…had relations with someone else. Not that it _should_ bother Bakura who Marik was fucking in his spare time.

But then again, he shouldn't have any sort of feelings towards the Egyptian, either - and here he was, the only person who Bakura had ever felt something even close to 'romantic' attraction to. So, it wasn't unexpected at this point.

"What, you bedded some poor sap and realized you didn't give a shit about them in any way?" He hadn't meant how bitter it came out, but what's said is said. He feigned more interest in his book then the topic, trying to distract himself from the bitter jealousy already rising. _God, this was stupid._

"…No, nothing like that. I'm just…curious, okay? Since you seem to be the _expert_ on wanting to fuck someone without staying with them, I figured you'd be the person to ask if I was going through the same thing. _Ra,_ you're annoying…"

Marik muttered the last part, but he'd said far too much for his own good - and Bakura's, for that matter. He found himself glaring at the pages of the book he held, bitter jealousy and annoyance rising in him. "Hmph. If you won't tell who, then I don't have to tell who I found out my feelings for. Or when, for that matter."

Marik didn't miss the slightly bitter tone to either of Bakura's sentences - and it only raised his curiosity. "You're awfully defensive about this, Bakura. If it was someone from ages ago, you wouldn't have a problem about it, would you?" It came out as a bit of a sneer - _from what? Jealousy?_ Marik didn't know anymore. Maybe it was just annoyance from the way Bakura was treating this whole situation.

"Maybe I don't remember his name." Bakura shot back, immediately regretting his choice of wording afterwards._ Fuck, that was too much of a clue._ Marik's eyebrows shot up, and Bakura didn't miss the surprised tone to his voice. "You liked a_guy_?"

"Yes. Did you just automatically assume I'm straight, Ishtar?_Please_." He found himself chuckling at the thought, albeit semi-bitterly. "Back in my days, we didn't even have a name for different sexualities. But, that's off topic. My point is, if you don't tell, I don't have to tell. End of discussion."

The room was silent for a while, and Bakura found himself slipping back into the concentration of reading his book - a nice distraction from the bitter feelings he'd had, only moments ago. But he could still feel the damnned Egyptian teen's gaze on him, and after a few minutes, couldn't control his response.

"Why the_ fuck_ are you still staring at me, Ishtar?! If you've got no other stupid questions, just_ leave_!" He snapped, glancing behind him with a glare. Marik raised an eyebrow, and he realized that he may have not handled the situation as well as he could have.

"Why does it matter? I'm not doing anything to you, _Bakura_." Marik's voice was oddly calm, with a smug smirk on his face, and it infuriated the white haired male. Still, he managed a semi-calm response. "I hate being stared at._ Leave_, if you're done-"

"Say I don't remember their name, either. If I gave you a description of them, would you answer?" Marik's question interrupted Bakura in mid sentence, and he found himself annoyed but intrigued.

"…Fine. Go ahead, then." He muttered, glaring silently at his own book. He wasn't sure_ why_ he wanted to hear - maybe he could identify who this person was, off Marik's description, and…

_…And what? Kill them?_ God, this was getting to his head. The room was eerily silent, and Bakura was about to snap at Marik again, before the other began talking.

"He's got brown eyes that shine like a madman when he's amused, and remind me immensely of the very shadows he stays in. He's annoyed easily, but is one of the best people to be around when he's in a good mood. His jokes are cruel and offensive, but that's part of the charm."

Bakura's hands clenched tighter on the book he was holding, and pretended he wasn't bothered by the other's words.

"He's…a thief, actually. A good one. Actually, the best." Marik's tone was teasing, and Bakura found his heart going slightly faster. _What the fuck was he doing…?_ "His smirks are dangerous and hypnotic, to the point where I can't _help_ but feel my heart beat faster when I see one. He dresses in the same fucking thing, every day - but it looks fine on him, so I can't complain. He's stubborn and annoying and he drives me _insane_ - but that's just how he is."

He pretended he hadn't caught on - that Bakura didn't know who he was describing, because it was too good to be true and he didn't want to accept it. Marik moved closer, and a small, smug smile flashed across his face.

"He's got the stupidest, crazy hair I've ever seen." And Bakura felt one of Marik's hands begin running through his own hair, and he found himself more focused on the other's words then anything else in the room. "It's the purest fucking white I've ever seen - in fact, it looks like the first snowfall I saw. He _never_brushes it, of course, but somehow it always is soft and easy to run your fingers through. …And…I see him, every fucking day of my life."

Bakura didn't need a mirror or even Marik himself to realize he was blushing, no matter how slight it was. And he caught the smug tone in Marik's voice at his question.

"So, _Bakura_. How about you? I gave you my description, now you have to cough up yours."

He paused, thinking about how to answer, before allowing himself a smug smirk as he began.

"He has the_ stupidest_ wardrobe I've ever seen. Lavender shirts, every single fucking day, and more jewelry then I've ever seen on any woman in the past 3,000 years. Not to mention the amount of_ eyeliner_ he puts on every day - but it looks good on him. He's the _only_ man I've met that actually looks good in that shit, believe me." Bakura could feel Marik freeze, the hand that had been combing through his hair previously stopping.

"He's got the slightest hint of an accent when he's mad. It's…adorable, frankly. And I won't deny, he's an evil fucker. He was the head of a gang for a long time, you know? Quite remarkable, really. He's so bloody fucking _ignorant_ to almost everything - but…_ugh,_ it's cute. Infuriatingly so, actually." He allowed himself a small smirk.

"He's fucking attractive, and it's so _annoying_ - finding yourself so possessive over someone who doesn't even know how you feel. Finding yourself leaving the room when he makes your stomach turn, for good or for bad. And I have to live my life with him, every fucking day - but I don't think I'd change it."

He let his words hang in the air for a minute, before glancing behind him to the speechless Marik with a slow smirk. "…Say, Ishtar. Do you want the definition of a mirror? I believe it'd speak louder then my words."

There was a minute, before he felt the other's arms around his neck and a slow, growing laughter. "…Well, now I feel stupid. You're always so defensive on the topic of your love life, but I didn't suspect…" Marik trailed off, and Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Oh,_ please_. You wouldn't have known if I hit you with it, Marik. Say…did this answer your question?" He drew out the last word, smirk not leaving his face. "Do you _loooooove_ me?"

"Fuck you!"

"You'd certainly like that, wouldn't you?"

"_Bakura!_"


End file.
